


long ago

by theoreticlove



Series: long and hard shall be the road [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Memories, Statues, for once in my life i wrote a sad fic, so i guess ill have to make it a series and write part two with a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 19:40:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20765876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoreticlove/pseuds/theoreticlove
Summary: fëanáro used to be so happy





	long ago

Once, she had made a statue of Fëanáro. They had just gotten engaged when she had sculpted it, and it so reflected his happiness. 

She had sculpted his smile, his gorgeous smile that lit up his face, lit up his eyes with an almost childish joy. He had passed it on to Maitimo, and to Ambarussa. How she had loved to see that smile, that smile which made her feel like the most wonderful, the most beautiful person in the world. Long ago, that smile was the most common thing in the world to see.

She had sculpted his eyes, his dark eyes that sparked with a burning passion for whatever he loved. She had seen that passion when he worked for hours in the forge, when he had decided to rewrite their letters to better them, as he said. She had seen that passion when he swore that Oath. She had seen it, long ago, when he looked at her.

She had sculpted his hands, those hands that had been so gentle, that had moved around wildly when he was happy, excited, filled to the brim with passion. The hands that had held their infant sons and wiped away their tears. The hands that braided her hair, that had held her hand when she was ill. The hands that, long ago, had not been stained with the blood of innocents.

She had always been told that her statues were lifelike. She had never thought so herself, always seeing what was real and what was fake, until she had stepped into her studio for the first time since he had left, and thought that he was standing there. 

When she realised that he was not, that it was a mere statue of him, she picked up a hammer, kept for just the occasion. She raised it and aimed for the statue’s head. 

She stopped with the hammer just an inch away from shattering the statue.

Even after all this, even knowing what he had become, what fell and fey creature he now was, she still couldn’t do it. She couldn’t let that version of him, that happy Fëanáro who had loved her long ago, be gone.

Nerdanel fell to her knees and wept.

**Author's Note:**

> im sad


End file.
